


Soup Is Not Good Food

by FriendlyNeighbourhoodAnon



Category: CallMeKevin - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Humour, I don't know how tags work here, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25696030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendlyNeighbourhoodAnon/pseuds/FriendlyNeighbourhoodAnon
Summary: Kevin is hungry and looking for something to eat, but something fecky is happening in his kitchen.Originally posted on Wattpad.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20





	1. Empty Cupboards

Kevin was concerned.

He had opened the cupboard in search of a snack and right there in the middle of the shelf sat a tin of soup. He scratched the back of his head eyeing the tin with a wary gaze. Where it had come from he could not say, but there was no soup in this household. So he plucked the offending tin from the shelf and dropped it straight into the bin.  
His stomach growled.  
“Feck it, I'll just make dinner now then,” he said to himself. It was barely 5pm, but his stomach wasn't aware of that. He turned back to the still open cupboard, intending to reach for a neglected packet of rice at the back of the shelf. Instead of the crinkly plastic of the packet his hand closed around a metallic cylinder. Brows furrowed, he lifted the tin from the shelf and peered at the label.

Cream of Tomato Soup

It had been a while since he had last cleaned out the cupboards, but he didn't remember there having been anything even resembling soup in his kitchen in the first place. Maybe one of his friends had left it there as a joke. It had been a while since he had had visitors- quarantine precluding any get-togethers he may otherwise have hosted, but he could have missed it amongst the riotous contents of the cupboard. No doubt whoever planted it would find it all the funnier given how long it had taken him to notice.  
He chuckled at himself.

Setting the soup down on the counter he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of it.

“Look, I don't know who planted this but I swear it's not mine.”

At least he had something to tweet about. That should keep the cult entertained until the new video went up.

Once again Kevin reached for the rice but his hand collided with the back of the shelf. He blinked. The cupboard was bare. No rice, no jars, no miscellaneous packets or spices that he bought on a whim and never used. There was nothing in there at all.  
“I must be going mad,” he muttered.  
He rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before slowly closing the cupboard door. He stood there for a while, forehead pressed against the door, wondering if he had hallucinated the contents of the cupboard. But there, from the corner of his eye, he could still see the dull gleam of the soup tin.

His stomach growled again. With a sigh he pushed himself away from the cupboard and veered towards the fridge. The light inside flickered on, bathing the clear shelves in a bright yellow glow.   
Kevin shook his head, trying to dislodge the buzzing now developing between his ears.   
There was definitely food in the fridge earlier. It couldn't have been more than an hour or so since he had poured himself a glass of orange juice from a carton that had been sat in the middle of the shelf door. Someone had to be fucking with him.

He slammed the fridge door shut and wrenched open the freezer instead. Nothing again. Not even a tray of ice. He glanced over at the tin of soup. It was mocking him, sat proudly in the centre of the kitchen counter and currently the only food in the house.  
“You can fuck right off,” he snarled at it, snatching it up and throwing it into the bin. It made a satisfying clang when it hit the first tin he had deposited in there. “I'll order pizza instead.”


	2. Soup Fairy

Twenty minutes later Kevin was still confused and hungry, but there was now a pizza en route and he was steadily making his way through a backlog of emails that had sat ignored in his inbox. A loud _rat-a-tat-tat_ on the front door sent him fumbling for his wallet as he strode down the hallway.

The man at the door grinned widely, presenting a shallow box exuding a fragrant steam. Kevin exchanged the box for the crumpled note in his hand.

"Keep the change," he said.  
"Thanks, pal," the man chimed, his tone altogether too cheerful for an extra couple of euros. Kevin shook off this thought, attributing it to his lingering bad mood.  
He retreated inside with his pizza and set the box down to retrieve a plate.

But when he opened the box he recoiled in disgust. There, in the centre of the box was a clean white bowl filled with a lurid orange soup. There was even a silver spoon already resting in the dish. Kevin tried to slam the lid back onto the box, but it rebounded off the edge of the bowl. The box was too shallow to have possibly held the bowl of soup. Clearly he was having a nightmare. He would wake up soon and all would be well. His cupboards would once again be stocked and there would be no more fecking soup. Meanwhile, his stomach was still gurgling. In anticipation of the pizza his hunger pangs had been bearable, but now he was beginning to feel unpleasantly empty. _Maybe I should just go and get the food myself,_ he thought. _Nothing weird can happen if I don't let it out of my sight._

His hands closed around the car keys in his discarded coat pocket. It was unseasonably warm so he could dispense with the coat for today. His hand caught on the edge of the pocket so he tugged again, trying to free his hand. It still wouldn't come. He tried letting go of his keys to ease his hand out, but there was no room to open his fist. He kept pulling and twisting his hand, trying to free himself. The object he was holding now felt far too large to be his keys and it was still expanding, forcing his hand to open further. With an audible rip the seam split and his hand came free.

With a groan of disbelief, Kevin stared at the object in his hand. More. Fecking. Soup.

A nervous laugh bubbled in his throat. Nope. Straight in the bin. He whirled back into the kitchen and stopped dead. There were another two tins on the kitchen table. No, not another two. They were the same two he had thrown away half an hour ago. Kevin placed the new tin next to the others.

A loud _pop_ came from the cupboard.

Kevin planted his feet and turned his head away from the noise. He would not look. He did not want to know what had made the noise. Another _pop_. Kevin looked back at the cupboard. _Pop_. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. _Pop_. He took a step towards the cupboard. _Pop_. He reached out his hand to the door. _Pop_. He pulled the handle. The popping ceased as the door swung open, to reveal a cupboard full of soups of all varieties, all neatly stacked in rows with their labels aligned and facing outwards.  
He staggered backwards and fell into a chair, buried his face in his hands and slumped against the table.

"Are you okay?"

Kevin jumped. The pizza delivery man was in his kitchen, peering at him with a wry expression. A ghost of his earlier grin played at the corners of his mouth.  
"What the hell is happening?" Kevin groaned. He had known there was something off about him.  
"We need to talk about the soup," the man said. He took the seat opposite from Kevin.  
"You're behind all of this, then," Kevin said flatly. It wasn't a question. What else could he have meant? "Who are you?"

The man's grin came back fully this time.

"I'm the Soup Fairy."

Kevin blinked, nonplussed. Surely he was having him on. Or he was insane. Or else Kevin himself had gone mad. There were a thousand more plausible explanations than the idea of a Soup Fairy. The man raised an eyebrow, inviting Kevin's questions.

"The Soup Fairy?"  
"Yes."  
"And you've been torturing me with soup?"  
"I think torture is perhaps a little dramatic, but yes."  
"Why?"

The man's face grew stern. Kevin leaned back in his chair, observing this change in temperament. A few seconds ago the man had been if not exactly 'friendly', then at least good humoured. The change was perturbing.

"You have been slandering soup," the man said. His words were ridiculous, but his tone was serious. "We take our good name very seriously."

Who did he mean by 'we'? Were there more lunatics out there, just like this one? That was a frightening thought. Kevin resolved to tread lightly.

"I'm sure there are plenty of people who dislike soup. You can't curse all of them," Kevin reasoned.  
"We don't. Just the ones who preach anti-soup sentiments to 2 million people."

 _2.4 million,_ Kevin corrected silently, though he sensed that it would not be a wise idea to correct him. He reached for his phone, hidden by the tins of soup, inching his hand across the table. He was sure he could keep the man talking while help arrived, if he could just manage to send a text for aid without being too obvious about it.

"You mean the same people who spam soup on twitch whenever I leave the room? I don't think I'd make a very good preacher," Kevin countered. His fingertips brushed the edge of his phone. He began to ease it back towards him, drawing it into his palm little by little, while still holding the strange man's eye. "I can't help it if I find it disgusting."  
_Pop._ He now held yet another tin of soup in place of his phone. Kevin stared at the man, slack-jawed.

"Soup Fairy isn't just a funny name, you know. It's a job title," the man tittered. Kevin placed the tin next to the others in his steadily growing collection.  
"I think Soup Gremlin is more accurate."  
"If I were a Gremlin then I wouldn't be willing to offer a compromise."  
"A compromise on what?" Kevin asked. He was in deep enough by now that he just had to accept that this was actually happening.  
"The curse. I will return your possessions to their original state, if you refrain from more disparaging commentary."

Kevin considered for a moment. 'Curse' was a scary word, but disparaging commentary was a very broad term.

"So I can't say anything bad about soup? What about if someone else brings it up?" he asked.  
"The problem isn't your personal tastes. It's your vehemence. I'm paraphrasing here, but the other week you said something along the lines of 'it's disgusting and I hate it and it should all be poured into the sea'."  
"But why is this even an issue? There are a lot of foods I don't like and I haven't had any gremlins messing with me over that," Kevin argued.  
"We are not gremlins," the man growled. His frown deepened. "Though I daresay you would be visited by some of my colleagues if you were quite so vocal about their departments."

 _Great. The gremlins had departments now._ Kevin fought the urge to roll his eyes. The conversation was becoming circular. All he wanted was to be left alone.

"Fine," Kevin spat.  
"Excellent," said the man. His stern aura faded, all traces of menace leaving his face. He extended a hand, producing a roll of parchment from thin air. "Just some paperwork to confirm our arrangement and I'll be on my way."

It still took the better part of an hour to negotiate the fine print, but eventually they reached an accord. Kevin would avoid all soup talk where possible, and make a good faith attempt to be more diplomatic in confessing his dislike. In return, the Soup Fairy promised to lift the curse and return Kevin's belongings to their original state. He scrawled his signature next to the Soup Fairy's own flourish at the bottom of the parchment.

"I still think you're a gremlin," Kevin remarked.  
"And there I thought we were starting to get along," grinned the Soup Fairy. This time Kevin did roll his eyes. "Your pizza is getting cold, by the way."  
"Pizza?"

The Soup Fairy disappeared into thin air without answering, though Kevin could have swore he saw him wink.

Kevin looked back at the pizza box, forgotten on the kitchen counter. It was closed again. He approached warily, suspicious of a trap. The gremlin had made no mention of the pizza when listing which of Kevin's belongings would be restored, nor had Kevin thought to ask. But the box felt warm again. He lifted the lid cautiously. _Thank Christ._ The soup was gone. The box now contained a cheese pizza. Kevin lifted a slice and took a bite. _Finally, some food._ He finished eating the rest of the slice without bothering with a plate, savouring the crust especially. The rest he put into the fridge to save for later. All he wanted to do now was crawl into bed and pretend this had all been a particularly vivid dream.  
But the gremlin had left a copy of their agreement behind, along with a warning that he would be keeping an eye on Kevin.


	3. Oh Yeah

Kevin was mid-way through his Sunday evening livestream when a message popped up on the screen to his right.   
“I'm so sorry, I actually like soup. Please forgive me.”  
His first instinct was to feign disgust, but he caught himself just in time. His audience expected a certain reaction from him and he liked playing up to it, but he had to be careful. So instead he replied, “You know what, if you like it then you go ahead, that's absolutely fine.” He glanced up at the camera for a moment. He couldn't resist. “You're allowed to be wrong.” he smirked. He would probably pay for that later, but it was worth it. 

It was exhausting, constantly reigning himself in. He may have had a genuine hatred of soup, but he enjoyed the jokes it spawned and he knew his chat had fun with it as well. Why should he spoil their fun just because some strange person with no sense of humour had laid down an edict. Granted said person had the ability to make Kevin's life very difficult, but he still chaffed under the agreement he had signed. Had been coerced into signing, really. 

An hour later Kevin slouched down the stairs and into the kitchen. He was not surprised to see a small grey-haired man sat at the table, his hands clasped primly in front of him. He leaned against the counter and waited for the man to speak.

“I gather you know why I'm here?” the man asked. 

Kevin raised an eyebrow. He wasn't going to behave like a naughty child in his own house, playing the supplicant. Instead he met the Soup Fairy's falsely inquisitive stare with a frank look of his own.

“You've been pushing it for a while now, Kevin. I think it's time we had a conversation.”  
“What do you mean I've been pushing it?” Kevin did a good impression of indignation, but he knew exactly what the Soup Fairy was referring to. 

He had almost managed to convince himself that their first encounter had been the product of an over-active imagination. That was, at least, until he had made a reference to starving being preferable to soup in one of his videos. Everything had been fine while he was recording it. His editor hadn't run into any issues and there were no ominous booms of thunder when he uploaded the video. It wasn't until it went live that the Soup Fairy had decided to pay a visit to remind him of their contract. Kevin had stumbled downstairs in much the same manner as he had done now, looking for food after a livestream, to find him sat at the table, waiting.

The resulting lecture was not pleasant. 

_“I gave you several chances. I could have stepped in as soon as you made the note to include it, but I gave you the benefit of the doubt,” the Soup Fairy said, each word dangerously precise. “Instead you completely disregarded an agreement you signed and -”  
“Oh come on, it was clearly a joke,” Kevin interrupted, his voice raising a pitch. “You're being ridiculous!”  
The Soup Fairy silenced him with a hard glare.   
“I was just going to give you a warning,” he said. “But I don't think you are taking this seriously.”  
It had taken two days of shouting various soup-related insults at thin air, then apologies and eventually pleading, before his tormentor had relented. In those two days every attempt to procure a non-soup food was thwarted. The irony was not lost on him, just really fecking annoying._

He had managed to tune out most of the Soup Fairy's current lecture.

“- it is the constant negative attitude,” he was saying.   
“What do you mean negative attitude?” Kevin asked, coming out of his reverie. “I haven't said anything negative about soup in ages.”

The man raised his eyebrows at Kevin. 

“Fine, except for today,” he amended. “But technically-”  
“That's exactly the problem. You're using technicalities to circumvent our agreement.”  
“How?” Kevin demanded, though he knew it was true. He had spent far too much time mulling over how he could continue to broadcast his anti-soup stance. Not because he resented the personal tastes of others, it was just the principle of the thing. 

“Just a couple of days ago you released a video that mentions a war on soup.”

Kevin crossed his arms and looked at the floor. Okay. That was fair, it hadn't been his most subtle idea.

“I didn't say which side I was on,” he mumbled.  
“It was implied, Kevin.”

The pair shared an uncomfortable silence. They were at an impasse.

“They're obviously jokes, though. I don't understand what you want from me.”  
“Perhaps it would be better to not make those jokes in future,” the Soup Fairy said. He had had enough. “You signed a good-faith agreement and you are not acting in good faith.”  
“How am I supposed to explain to people that I'm not allowed to joke about soup any more?” Kevin demanded. “If I start talking about being cursed by a soup gremlin-”  
 _“Fairy.”_  
“Fine, fairy,” he said, exasperated. “They're not going to take it seriously. Either that or they'll think I've really cracked this time and to be honest I'm not sure they'd be wrong.”

Kevin slouched into the chair opposite the Soup Fairy. He just didn't know what to do. 

“If I might make a suggestion?” the Soup Fairy said. Kevin looked at him, and waited for him to continue. If the gremlin had a solution he was all ears.   
“Like what?” Kevin prompted.   
“Distract them.”  
That caught Kevin off-guard. “Distract them how?”  
“Find something else for them to focus on.”  
“Yeah, I know what distract means,” Kevin said, scowling. Inwardly he kicked himself for expecting sage advice from this bastard. “I just don't know how to do it. My chat takes pride in causing chaos.”  
“That's why you need to find something for them to focus on when you're off-screen,” the Soup Fairy said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You're giving them space to create their own chaos, it's your job to direct it.”

Later that same night Kevin was idly scrolling through his YouTube feed, only half paying attention to the thumbnails swooping across the screen. How the hell was he supposed to 'direct' several thousand people. He could barely direct his own antics. A blur of pink and blue flew up the screen. Wait. What was that thing? He scrolled back up and tapped the image. The microphone screech caught him off-guard. He winced. Then grinned. And began to giggle.  
 _Oh no,_ Kevin thought. _This is cursed. It's perfect._

*

Kevin kept glancing at the clock. He had been streaming for a little over an hour at this point and his stomach was starting to gurgle. He had neglected to eat while he was setting up his “surprise” and afterwards he was too nerve-wracked to contemplate food. He debated pushing through, but his energy was beginning to flag.   
On screen Mario was set upon by a flock of bats. As the scene changed and the enemies arranged themselves into the battle mode Kevin made up his mind. Now was the perfect time to test out his distraction technique.   
“Alright. How are we gonna fecking do this?” he muttered. _Shit. That was out loud._ He focused his attention back on the game. “Can I just attack?”   
After this fight. He'd just grab a cereal bar and come right back. It'd only take him a minute. He just had to set it up properly.

“Erm. . . I'm just going to grab something real quick,” he said. “I'll be right back. The problem is we've had a few issues on this-”  
He was floundering. He kept talking, searching for a thread to latch onto.   
“Every time I go, you guys just talk about soup.” He looked directly into the camera. “And I don't really like it. It's. . . it's offensive in my culture.” He was beginning to hit his stride now so he pushed through, explaining that he'd set something up to keep them entertained, so they wouldn't need to resort to talking about soup. He pressed the button on his stream deck and jumped out of his chair before he could see the reaction in chat. 

When he returned, still chewing on the remnants of his snack, the chat was in utter disarray. His audience were in full on all-caps melt down mode. There were still a few brave souls valiantly trying to push the topic back to soup, but they were being drowned out. Whether by 'oh yeah' or by expressions of sheer horror and revulsion, the soup messages were few and far between. It had worked. 

He couldn't resist, he played the clip again just to watch the reaction. The screen was black for a split second, the panicked messages began to zoom into the chat box before the scene had even changed. The were mostly in the same vein.

“Kevin, NO!”

“Oh yeaaahh,” Kevin sang.

“Why do you hate us?” the chat screamed.

“I guess I'm really Bimpson, yeah!” Kevin was starting to enjoy this and he wasn't alone. There was now a copy pasta in the chat in support of the pink monstrosity on screen. The chat was in a state of total anarchy by the time the video ended. 

“And that's my answer to soup, guys,” he grinned into the camera.


End file.
